Home
by Decidedly Average
Summary: "There was little she told him that he would forget, even down to the tiniest of details." - It doesn't look like Nikki is ever going to get her big, Red Brick house. Break in 'Aging Well', set where Aging Well is now.
1. 1

**Hey again guys! Basically, this started as a chapter in 'Aging Well' (so, same story as Elintézetlen) but it kind of expanded until it seemed like it would work better as a kind of 'special' like 'Nicest in the Autumn'.**

**Oh boy. You guys are gonna hate me.**

**But I'm going to just ask you nicely, sit back, don't stress, enjoy the ride, and a little review every so often would be lovely!**

**Thank you for your ongoing support, every single one of you xxx**

* * *

Home – Part One

He watched her, as she stood right in the centre of the brightly lit hallway, the sun shining through and lighting her up in an otherwise vacant area. She was pregnant, heavily pregnant – with their third - and wearing one of those very _African-esque _cheesecloth tops, that floated around her like a permanent cumulus cloud around her middle. Though if he looks close enough, he can see the outline of her stomach, and his child, beneath it.

She gives a sigh that lifts her shoulders, looking around critically.

"_No."_

He presses his fingertips to his temples. The estate agent looks ready to pass out. He hadn't realised before now the importance of a family home to her. Of course, they _should _get this right. But it had been so long he was at the point of just picking a place at random and just moving them in, without asking her what she thought.

"_Jesus Christ, Nikki. What's wrong with this one?"_

"_The stairs aren't wide enough. Suppose the kids are going up and down at the same time? They'd fall over each other! And there is no room in the spare bedroom for a double bed. Suppose Pieter and Sara come and visit? Where would they sleep?"_

Poor Sam the Estate agent left out the front door to wait for them outside, supposedly so he wasn't tempted to strangle the wife.

"_Nikki, darling. I know you want this to be perfect, and believe me, so do I, but you have to compromise a bit, love. We're not buying a mansion here."_

She could be a brat, at times, and Harry curses her late Father for the phony lavish upbringing he gave her in South Africa. It had been the last house in a long list and they were out of options with not even _one_ of them getting close to a maybe.

On the way home, he had no choice but to ask her;

"_What is it you actually want, Nik?"_

Her answer was clear and succinct, no hesitation. She knew _exactly_ what she wanted.

"_Do you remember, a very long time ago, I told you about a dream I had? About a big house in a smallish village outside London? It was a red brick village, as was the house and it had a big garden that we could have barbecues and parties in and our children could play out there and we'd know they were safe because we could see them from the window. And one of the outside walls had ivy all over it. There was a huge living area inside – with a living area and a kitchen – and a big stair case and out the front there was a drive and a hedge and enough ground left to plant some flowers that would make it look so colourful in the spring…"_

Eventually, she had stopped for breath. He had answered _"Yes", _because he did remember. It had been a very long time ago, perhaps even before they were married, but he remembers because it was rare that she would tell him of her dreams…though he knew she still had them. There was little she told him that he would forget, even down to the tiniest of details.

"_I want that."_

He had given an exasperated sigh.

"_And you won't settle for anything else?"_

"_What would be the point, Harry? You know how it is. Anything other, would just be a compromise."_

Another sigh.

"_And how would I know 'how it is'?"_

"_Well that's why you were single for so long, wasn't it?"_

He had thrown her a sideways glance to find her smiling audaciously in his direction. His glance had momentarily fell to her rather large stomach.

"_So, you're giving me, 6 and a half weeks to find you this house?"_

Her turn to sigh.

"_No. We'll make do where we are for now…"_


	2. 2

**So, really this chapter starts where I have left Aging Well, if that makes sense, I am going back to AW, this is just a digression! **

* * *

Home – Part 2 - 3 and a half years later.

"_So, Nikki. How's your love-life?"_

She rolls her eyes. _Hates_ that question. Simply because it connotes _gossip, girly-chats _and she despises such sexist stereotypes of women that meet up for coffee. And yet here she was, and there they were, _asking._ She would have perhaps been less surprised had it been _Leo. _But these two women she has barely seen since she left for South Africa after their degree. _Why_ do they want to know? Is it in the hope that she says _"Absolutely shit, truth be told." _And they are obliged to comfort her in that cringe inducing way that women do, over a skinny latte and a cake they _"Shouldn't be eating."? _ Or is it because their own aren't worth mentioning?

She's about to disappoint them.

"_Fine, thanks."_

"_Don't give us that!"_

"_Don't give you what?"_

She gives a genuine frown, glancing into the pram and silently wishing Hannah to wake up, or throw up or…_something_ that gives them the excuse to rush away. She shoogles the pram with her foot.

Their gaze is so condescending, and intense, it is as if they _want _her to have a problem.

"_Nikki. You've had four kids. You're not telling me, your marriage is 'fine' in that department._"

She thinks over their valid argument and quickly spots a flaw. Surely the fact that she has four children should suggest the complete opposite.

"_It's fine! Everything's fine!"_

She has to laugh at their faces, resembling how they may have looked had she turned up for lunch with an all-face-consuming tattoo.

"_So…you're still getting it?"_

She closes her eyes momentarily, in an attempt to breathe through the conversation and perhaps open her eyes on the other side.

"_Yes!"_

"_More importantly, you're still enjoying it?"_

"_Oh dear god! Is that so bizarre?"_

"_And what about him, is he enjoying it?"_

She's not sure if her smile comes across as a bit _too_ smug or not;

"_You'd have to ask him yourselves…"_

"_Where is Harry?"_

For a moment she pauses and thinks. He's not at work. He had the day off. He's not with the kids, they're at school, nursery. In fact, he hadn't really specified.

"_I don't know."_

"_You don't know where he is?!"_

They give her a strange look. All raised eyebrows and twisted lips and wide eyes.

"_What? He's a grown man, he can go where he likes. He's capable of going out without me and I him!"_

They look at each other.

"_Does he do that a lot?"_

"_No…well…recently he's…he's had drinks with people from work, and the other week some old friends from University got in touch, he went out with them…"_

"_Can you prove it?"_

Suddenly she feels a little bit attacked. Like they've cornered her, and questioned her so viciously they are peeling everything back, the wallpaper of her whole existence before hammering at the wall, creating cracks that hadn't actually even existed before…

"_I…well…no not really. Why?"_

…or perhaps they had.

"_Just watch yourself. You both deal with a lot of stress together. Work, four kids, bills. Things tend to go…stale…"_

They up and leave, ironically wishing her well with a kiss and prodding Hannah in the face, waking her up. Soon she is left with her own dazed and confused thought process…and a screaming baby. She shakes it off and leaves soon after.

* * *

And she doesn't give it another thought until he comes in much later, while she is shifting stuff – that was meant for the spare room they never got round to having – around, attempting to get to the other side of the study. She reaches the other side, and she hears his keys in the lock and she takes a quick look at her phone.

_9.45pm._

He pops his head round the door, wincing slightly at the heaps of junk, before smiling oddly at her.

"_Where on Earth have you been?"_

"_Sorry, darling. Got caught up. I lost track of time."_

She notes that he doesn't actually_ tell _her where he's been.

* * *

Later on, they're sitting on the couch in silence. He's reading some journal or other, with a glass of wine in one hand and she is feeding the baby at the opposite side of the room. She can't help but think about things as they are. It is as if her estranged friends had sown a seed of thought into her subconscious and it had grown, fed by her own insecurities and having too much time on her hands, roots spreading, coiling into her conscious until she can barely think of anything else.

"_Everything's fine!"_

She's second guessing herself.

"_Things tend to go…stale…"_


	3. 3

**Jeez it's quiet. Well, I suppose the whole fandom is in mourning right now. I for one am still in denial. HE'S COMING BACK PEOPLE...I...I hope!**

**If you're reading, a wee review would be lovely!**

* * *

Home - Part 3

She's not sure if it's the little sleep she's had, or what the girls had said to her, but she wakes up the next morning convinced she _has_ to do something about it. Whatever _it_ happens to be. Her marriage, rotting from the inside out, or something altogether more sinister.

He's at work during the day, called out. And by the time he comes home she's so engrossed in the bedtime routine that she barely gets a look at him, before he's swept off, to wash hair and read stories.

In fact, the clock strikes 9.30 and she still hasn't spoken to him. She silently gets changed before heading back downstairs.

He is nursing a rather substantial glass of whiskey in the armchair.

She plays it cool. Or as cool as she can. Or as cool as she remembers being, _way back when_, and leans casually on the doorframe in her _brand new_ short, silk kimono. His stare remains troubled, on the carpet.

"_Come to bed?"_

She waits for a few seconds for him to respond, but it feels like hours as she stands there, shivering slightly, each moment that goes by another agonising rejection.

So she walks over and takes his glass from his hands, placing it down on the floor. He squints at her, eyes only on her body fleetingly and when she looks back, there is no passion.

Just _familiarity._

So she perches on the arm of his chair, where his whiskey had been, making sure to let her only garment of clothing ride up substantially, _graphically, _in an attempt to entice him.

Yet he still says and does nothing.

So she smiles sweetly and bends back, until she is draped over his lap. Her fingers find his own and guide them to the tie at her waist, giggling.

"_Come to bed with me!"_

"_Nikki…I'm on call…"_

He speaks to her as if she were a bothersome child, gently lifting her back off and back onto the arm of the chair. He looks tense, stressed and a little pissed off, though it doesn't seem to be with her.

"_So!?"_

"_So, I want to get some sleep."_

She doesn't give up quite yet, taking his hand again and resting it high on her thigh, untying the kimono herself.

"_Plenty time for sleeping once you're dead, sweetie."_

"_Nikki. Stop."_

He is firm and cutting and it's so final that it's almost like having a telling off and – as she always did as a child – she feels an inexplicable need, _urge, _to cry.

"_It's just been a bad day, okay? I, uh, there was a stab victim on the slab today and it really got to me and I just…not tonight ok?"_

He gives a sigh and reaffirms his gaze on the carpet.

"_Ok. Sorry."_

Feeling more than a little ridiculous, she suddenly doesn't know where to put herself and winds up simply climbing the stairs and climbing into a cold bed. She wonders to herself; _is it all in her head?_ Is this just happening because of lunch the previous day? Or is he really behaving differently of late? Is it her? Is she simply just not attractive anymore? For the second night running, she can't sleep and she is still awake when he comes in an hour and a half later.

Without a word, he undresses and climbs in beside her. Silently, she lies there, she on_ her side _and he on his, not touching, neither of them crossing the barrier between them.

They'd always been straight with each other. After everything that happened between them at the start, when Kit was born. When they started again, with the fear of trying too hard, it was the one promise they'd made to each other. _Be honest._

So she lies there for a few minutes more, hushed, listening to the little sounds that she's grown so used to in this house, the house that was only ever meant to be _'for a few more years' _biting her lip to hold in the tears_, _before she asks him. Straight out. No pretense.

"_Are you having an affair?"_

A lot has happened to her over the years. Her Mother died, Her father left, various men treated her like dirt, she'd been in life-threatening and blood curdling situations, she'd miscarried a baby at 28 weeks and watched helplessly as he struggled to live. But she is sure the minutes in which he remains silent are the worst, most horrifically unbearable moments of her life. He is the heart of everything that has ever been good in her life; he gave her hope, love, a family, security, somewhere to belong. She cherishes him as a husband and a dear, dear friend. The fact of the matter is, he is the world. The idea that this may be taken from her is the worst pain she has ever felt.

"_Is that a genuine question or an 'I have an answer in my head and if you say the wrong one I still won't believe you' question?"_

"_Just tell me."_

"_Honestly?"_

"_Honestly."_

"_No. No, I am not. I can't believe you just asked me that, Nikki."_

He gets up and takes a throw from her rocking chair before leaving, presumably to sleep on the couch.


	4. 4

**Oh dear!**

* * *

Tomorrow is their 10 year anniversary.

She has been his wife for a decade.

There is one thing she's sure of, she still trusts him with everything she is.

She's calmed down now, a lot. Since last night.

Of course, by that point, he's gone to work and she is half way through the school run.

So it's only when she gets Hannah down for a nap later in the morning that she gets the chance to redeem herself to him.

She rings his phone. No answer. She rolls her eyes, imagining his stubbornness. Imagining him seeing '_Home'_ pop up on the caller I.D. and pushing the reject button before throwing the phone back down. She feels another pang of guilt at this, he's been frustrated for a good while now, and she hadn't made it any easier; choosing now to be clingy and needy, rather than his tower of strength when he needed it, for a change. She's not so sure she's ever been very good at the whole _supportive wife_ thing…

She rings Leo, and when he does answer, she barely gives him a chance to say hello.

"_Leo, Is Harry around? I really have to speak to him. We had a bit of a…tiff last night and I want to apologise. I know he had a hard day yesterday with the stabbing, I just want to say sorry and I can't wait until tonight-"_

He has suddenly heard enough and stops her in her tracks.

"_Nikki? Are you drunk? Harry isn't here! He's on call and we haven't had any calls out! And what are you talking about a stabbing? We haven't had any homicides for days!"_

The horror that spreads through her is something she cannot describe. But she keeps it together, telling Leo she must have made a mistake and blaming it on _baby brain_, refusing to allow him in on the secret.

It's nearly her anniversary.

And she is acutely now aware that her marriage is falling apart.

From the moment she hears the dialling tone again, she builds herself up into a complete frenzy, one that was to last for the remainder of the day.

She goes straight from one phone to another, _his_. Innocently, of course, only to remove her missed call. She hadn't intended to intrude, or pry. But that was until she saw the unread message in his texts. She blinks back the sting in her eyes and takes a shaky breath of air, before selecting it.

**Would be great to see you at the house today,**

**If you can get away.**

**Lisa x**

For a while she simply stands and stares at it, not quite sure if she believes what she is seeing. _Was this all in her head? Had the things those small minded women she called 'friends' messed her head up so much she was inventing marital chaos? _This was Harry. Her Harry. And Harry wasn't like this.

Running a single hand through her hair, she stands and regains her composure. With an icy cool she hadn't realised she possessed, she quietly, calmly calls Janet, asks her to pick the kids up from school and nursery later. She's remembered the date. _Yes, it's because she and Harry are going out, yes, they'll pick them up later that night on the way home. _No, it certainly wasn't because they had things to speak about, things that could get so messy she didn't want her children around when everything exploded.

Then she pays a visit to Anne, dropping Hannah into her Grandmother's waiting arms and promising to be back for her later that night. She doesn't stay long. Keeping up the carefully constructed façade of carefree smiles and dry eyes was making her weary.

When she gets in, she finds she has a few hours before she suspects he'll be home. And she spends them in a way she hadn't expected to want to.

She sat, she stood, she walked, around every square inch of the house, conjuring up memories, occasions, times spend in each space, allowing the thoughts to soothe and calm her, before slowly letting them drift off into nothingness. It was almost like saying goodbye, to _love_, to _family_, to the only concept of_ home_ she had ever known, perhaps in fact it was.


	5. 5

**S'me again!**

**Thank you so much for the reviews and feedback and general loveliness, it is always welcome and its sometimes nice to just hear from people (on here I mean...not in general...I'm not a hermit...I do have friends...some...) anyway, sorry, rambling! **

* * *

He comes in quietly at half past 6, it's already dark, and he finds her sitting on the living room sofa, biting her lip, eyes brimming with tears, hands gripped tightly between her thighs, shoulders forward, and she looks so unbelievably small he feels obliged to speak quietly, gently, to reassure her that he isn't angry and that they shouldn't fight anymore.

"_Hey, I'm back! Happy Anniversary, sweetheart."_

She doesn't move when he holds out the flowers and so he simply stands watching her. He questions her with his eyes, but hers are still shining with tears. When she speaks, he makes no move to comfort her, presuming her tears are simply lingering from last night's argument.

"_How was work?"_

"_Uh…good, thanks, busy though!"_

"_You're a liar."_

And all colour drains from his face. He knows immediately. She's found out.

"_Oh my god. Nikki…"_

"_Want to hear about my day. I've had a bit of a strange day, actually. First, I thought I'd phone the office, to apologise to you, seeing as it's our anniversary in a day's time…y'know, after I'd taken our kids to school –"_

"_I know it's our anniversary! Nikki, where are the kids?"_

"_-Only when I called Leo, he told me there was no stabbing victim yesterday and you weren't even in work today! Then I found your phone, you have a message from 'Lisa' by the way, she's wondering if you'll be able to escape to the house or something, how about you call her? Tell her you're a bit busy right now!"_

She's not shouting, and somehow that makes it worse. Her voice is more of a high pitched squeal as she tries to stop herself from crying and her lips are shaking. Her heart is absolutely well and truly broken and he knows exactly what she's thinking. But all he can do is stand and watch her.

"_Oh, and then, this is the best bit, you got a bank statement through today, £8,000 has been transferred to your 'other' account…and why didn't I know you had another account, Harry?"_

However _that _does rile him.

"_You shouldn't be looking at my stuff! That's private!"_

After that, she doesn't know what else to say, so, tearfully, she asks him again. She despises herself for being so weak. She should have been screaming the house down, dragging him outside by the scruff of his neck and setting him on fire, instead, she was sitting there, utterly crushed, tears streaming, no, _cascading _down her cheeks, in an utter, utter state. She shouldn't have leant on him so much, she shouldn't have made him her world.

"_Are you sleeping with someone else?"_

This time, he doesn't even answer.

"_Oh for god's sake!"_

"_Well are you?"_

"_Y'know what? If you hadn't gone out with those godforsaken women on Wednesday this bullshit wouldn't even be in your head! What lies have they been feeding you?!"_

"_This isn't about them! It's about us and the obvious problems we have! You're distant, I don't know where you go half the time, you lie, you're spending copious amounts of our savings on god knows what, and quite obviously this affair or fling or –"_

Suddenly, he has dropped to his knees in front of her and he's pulled her hands from between her knees and is holding them tightly, staring straight into her eyes, a look of sheer desperation on his face, as if he is willing her, _wishing her _to see inside himself. It's not unlike the Harry she used to know, the Harry she was first most intimate with. The one who was still tormented by the events of Budapest and wanted to confide in her so badly, but simply _couldn't. Because he didn't want to hurt her._

"_I am not having sex with anyone else, okay? I am not seeing anyone, I am not kissing anyone, I'm not even looking at anyone! It's you, Nikki. It always has been and it always will be, I can promise you that with every fibre of my being."_

In the moments that follow, she wonders if that Harry really ever changed. Perhaps she was wrong to put so much of her trust in him. He hadn't grown up at all, he hadn't pulled himself together and he was still as messed up as he had always been. She pushes him away and he almost loses balance.

"_No."_


	6. 6

**Hi everyone! **

**So, this is the resolution, the final installment, the conclusion, or whatever you want to call it. 'Aging well' will resume however.**

**You're all lovely and I've loved your reviews! Thank you so very much! x**

* * *

She isn't quite sure how she ends up there. But she is sitting at the kitchen table, face down, neck bent so far her features are almost parallel with the hard surface a few centimetres from her.

She had never planned for it to turn out like this. She'd been here before, twice, abandoned by both parents she was plunged into uncertainty, worry, hurt, near insanity through relentlessly feeling on edge about what was going to go wrong next.

For once, in her _sorry, little life. _She thought she had been in control. She had her family, they had their home, she kept them healthy, she made them happy, secure, comfortable, everything she wasn't.

And _still_ it had fallen apart.

And she absolutely _no idea_ what she was going to do about it.

So, as if having suffered some sort of system meltdown, she sits, remarkably still, until he comes in 45 minutes or so later.

Her eyes are still fixed to the table, so she can't quite make out what his mood is, how he's feeling, what he's thinking. It confuses her that she isn't feeling the usual tingly, achy feeling inside her that she usually feels when_ he_ is angry or upset.

Suddenly, he throws a set of keys…no…just one key, at her and it bounces across the table and eventually settles a foot away from her fist with a peace-shattering, high pitched clang. She squeezes her eyes shut and wonders how on earth he is going to tell her he's leaving her, that it wasn't that he didn't care for her...but things had just gone _stale. _That he had found a younger, prettier, less messed up model, finally.

He speaks and she dreads what he is going to say, though it certainly isn't what she is expecting to hear.

"_Do you remember, a very long time ago, you told me about a dream you had? About a big house in a smallish village outside London? It was a red brick village, as was the house and it had a big garden that we could have barbeques and parties in and our children could play out there and we'd know they were safe because we could see them from the window. And one of the outside walls had ivy all over it. There was a huge living area inside – with a living area and a kitchen – and a big stair case and out the front there was a drive and a hedge and enough ground left to plant some flowers that would make it look so colourful in the spring?"_

She answers _"Yes." _Because she remembers it vividly, from a conversation they had a long time ago. She remembers because she would always formulate words in her head before she spoke to him, it didn't matter how comfortable she was in his presence, there was little she told him that _she_ would forget, even down to the tiniest of details.

For the first time since their confrontation, she looks at him. To her surprise he is smiling slightly, one of those smiles that she could see more in his eyes than his mouth, as he nods to the table. To the key.

"_It's yours."_

For a moment, she wonders if she has looked up into a parallel universe.

"_What?"_

"_Pick up the key…_

He speaks in a low dulcet tone, the smile never leaving his face, his eyes boring into her very soul, and he reaches out his hand to her.

…_and trust me."_

* * *

Perhaps it is to spite her better judgement that she finds herself rolling the key between her fingers as she sits in the passenger seat, silent as he drives her to some unknown destination.

He pulls over not long after they have entered a smallish looking village. She looks out across him and in the light of the streetlamps she can see a park with plenty greenery and things for children to play on. There are no cold steel railings around it, but a small, soft hedge hugs it on each edge. In the distance she sees a small new build, presumably a school.

On the other side there is a little post box perched on a pavement and a row of red brick houses.

He doesn't speak until they have walked past the corner and down the straight street, past the row of red brick houses and come to a small crevice where she sees a pebble drive and a gate approaching.

"_I was going to wait until tomorrow. But I think if I did that, you might have left me by then."_

He deadpans, softly reaching up and squeezing her upper arm softly. His hand moves to her back and he guides her through the front gate.

She can barely believe her eyes.

She is faced with a house, detached from all the others, surrounded by garden on three sides and a tall fence sheltering it from neighbours. It appears to have two floors, maybe three. White windowsills frame large, light windows looking into empty rooms. _Red brick_. There is room at the front for a car or two and more than enough room to plant flowers. A big green front door warms her heart and ignites her soul, enticing her forward.

He whispers in her ear; _"Wanna see inside?"_

She nods.

"_Use the key, then." _He encourages, and she gingerly steps forwards.

Wooden floor, clean, white walls. The hallway. On the left, a doorway leading into a study, and a wide, wooden staircase. The hallway leads down straight to a utility room and bath room. She takes one last look at the hall; plenty of room for little pairs of shoes and coats and gym bags, before she moves through to the room on the _right_. He follows, smiling all the way.

She finds herself in a large kitchen, seemingly not quite finished. Space for a table against more wooden bannisters. A new set of stairs to the left of the entrance leads down three steps to what would be a living room, though it was now apparently a storage space for as yet unfitted kitchen units.

She can't explain the feeling she gets upon entering this house. All she knows is that it is profoundly bizarre; the way in which it reminds her of her late twenties, looking into _his_ eyes as he passed her a scalpel over a corpse…

…and she slowly fell in love with him. Yes, it was certainly the exact same feeling.

It had happened before, she had been _ogled_ by men before, she had seen inside a _house_ before. And yet something was different _this time_, something felt inexplicably _right_ about it and there was no way she could conjure up the strength inside herself to resist it. Just like his _gaze_, something about this house made her feel safe, content, _happy._

She hadn't realised there would be so many similarities between finding the house of her dreams and discovering her soul mate.

Only once she has got her breath back does she start to piece things together in her head.

"_You did all this?"_

"_Mmmhmm."_

"_For me?"_

"_For us! Where did you think all the money was going? Where did you think I'd been spending all my time?"_

For a moment, she stops and looks around again, open mouthed, hardly believing. He continues to soak up his well-deserved glory.

"_I found it, but it wasn't quite what you wanted on the inside, so I thought I'd get it sorted out for our anniversary. It's not quite finished because I thought we'd have tomorrow to do more before I brought you…"_

"_Harry, I can't believe it…"_

She feels a surge of guilt, for 3 and a half years he has been searching high and low to find her this house, it had caused him sleepless nights and stress and worry and celibacy. But then she looks up and narrows her eyes at the smug expression on his face.

"_Who's Lisa?"_

His shoulders remain back, the smile doesn't leave his face. _Tonight_, he is on a roll, has an answer for everything.

"_Do you honestly think I'd be any good at project managing? I found Lisa through Janet and she agreed to do it for a pretty reasonable price. And d'you know what? This isn't even the best bit. Close your eyes."_

Doing as she is told, he takes her arm gently and takes her up the stairs in the hallway, telling her softly when to lift her feet. They get to the top and he moves behind her, holding his hands over her eyes as she shuffles gingerly on the carpet, giggling quietly. In a dramatic unveiling, he lifts his hands from her eyes and she blinks a few times, in an attempt to regain her sight. Before her is the landing, three walls ahead; two doors on each.

_"Look in them!" _He tells her excitedly.

So she does. The first is reasonably sized and already completely decorated, blue paint, and little stickers of vintage airplanes litter the walls. Dark coloured carpet, she notes. _Probably wise. _Kit's room.

The next one is a bit more neutral, with bunk beds and she smiles at the sentimentality of it all. They had tried to separate their middle children, but had finally decided it was a godsend that they enjoyed each others company, rather than a hindrance.

Hannah's room is yellow, and has a little border with giraffes and elephants and monkeys on it, running around the centre of the walls.

The next door she opens leads to a flight of stairs and she frowns. _"It's an attic." _He explains. _"Kit could have it when he's too cool to hang out with us!"_

Then there is a spare room. With enough room for a double bed for Pieter and Sara. And then there is their room, with the most wonderful view of the back garden. She can imagine the large oak right at the end one day being covered in rope-swings and tree houses.

_"And that's it!" _He concludes his tour, and she finally has the time to feel extraordinarily embarrassed of her behavior. For a moment, though she's not sure whether it is through embarrassment, relief or disbelief she closes her eyes and smiles, before erupting into full blown laughter. A blush has crept onto her cheeks by the time he looks at her questioningly and before he has the chance to speak, she has lifted a hand to the back of his neck and pulled him to her, resting her head in the crook of his neck, her other hand around his back as he clasps his hands low around her waist, cradling her there.

"_Did I do good?"_

She has to rest her face against his naked neck to stop herself from crying, with relief and utter _utter _shame.

"_Yeah, you did good. Very good."_

"_Shall we get started then?"_

She looks up, slightly confused.

"_Nikki, there are a lot of rooms in this place. We have a hell of a lot of christening to do."_

* * *

**Told you, you could trust me ;)**_  
_


End file.
